


the pain feels okay as long as you're here

by Mocha_Mei



Category: Chronicles of Narnia (Movies), Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21857926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mocha_Mei/pseuds/Mocha_Mei
Summary: (y/n) brooksworthe has been best friends with the pevensie siblings since they were children -- and in narnia, that hasn't changed. what also hasn't changed was her big, fat crush on the eldest pevensie -- peter.peter's terribly blind at seeing her crush for him, and (y/n) tells herself she is content with being just friends. edmund is in love but wants the best for (y/n), so he gets understandably frustrated.jazz hands ya boi back it again, hopefully i actually finish this one LMAO
Relationships: Peter Pevensie/Reader, one-sided Edmund Pevensie/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 32





	1. memories and feelings

_ Peter Pevensie had always been handsome for as long as (Y/N) could remember, even when he was a small, chubby-cheeked child. She remembered loving his natural chivalry and finding his short temper adorable. Susan had always given her a knowing smirk whenever (Y/N) was caught off guard by Peter.  _

_ They had grown quite close, the eldest brother of the Pevensies and (Y/N) Brooksworthe. (Y/N) cherished her friendship dearly with Peter, and was heartbroken when she moved away.  _

_ “It’s going to be alright, dearest,” (Y/N)’s mother had gently encouraged. “You’ll find other friends. And we’re not moving far from Finchley -- you can always come back to visit!” _

_ (Y/N) had nodded, and waved one final goodbye towards the Pevensies, who looked sorry to see her go.  _

_. . . _

_ “You need to go,” her mother decided.  _

_ “What?” (Y/N) had demanded. “I’m fine here, Mum.” _

_ “No,” her mother had said, shaking her head. “You must go. I don’t want you growing up in this… this landscape where you fear everyday whether you’re going to be the next one blown to bits.” _

_ “But what about you?” (Y/N) had asked, eyes teary. “I can’t just leave you.” _

_ Her mother had kissed her forehead, her eyes also glimmering. “I’ll always be with you, cricket,” she had said, with so much love in her voice. “Always.” _

_. . .  _

_ “(Y/N)?” _

_ (Y/N) froze, jerking up from the couch. “Peter?” she whispered, shocked.  _

_ With a loud whoop of laughter, Peter Pevensie ran over to her and scooped her up, twirling her around before setting her back on her feet.  _

_ “It so good to see you!” he said happily, beaming. “The woman said that there was another teenager like us here, but I certainly didn’t think it’d be you!” _

_ (Y/N)’s cheeks were flushed as she looked at him through her lashes. “I missed you too,” she said, a smile creeping on her face. “It’s been so long!” _

_ It had been long. Peter had always been taller than her, but now she had to crane her neck to look at him. His chubby cheeks were still there, but more chiseled -- he was losing it quickly. His once messy curls of blonde hair were more tame, and shorter. One thing hadn’t changed though -- his beautiful, megawatt smile.  _

_ “Oh,  _ move _ Peter, don’t hog her!” came Lucy’s voice as (Y/N) was suddenly hugged by the youngest Pevensie. “(Y/N), I’ve missed you!” she cried, her round cheeks glowing. “I miss walking down to that bakery with you and Susan like we did when I was littler!” _

_ “I’ve missed you too, Lucy,” (Y/N) said, smiling softly at the joyful girl. “You’ve grown so much!” _

_ “Still a squirt,” came Edmund’s awfully familiar voice.  _

_ “Edmund!” (Y/N) said, the smile widening on her face. She had grown to have a soft spot for the boy, no matter how snarky he was. After all, they were the same age. And lucky for her, it seemed he had a soft spot for her too -- not that he’d admit it, but (Y/N) knew. So did the rest of the Pevensies. It was often (Y/N) who settled the disputes whenever Edmund and his siblings disagreed with each other.  _

_ “Hullo, Brooksworthe,” came his reply, his eyes softening when they met hers. _

_ “Franky, I’m offended,” Susan said, arms crossed. “I’m to be greeted last?” The smile on Susan’s face refuted every word that came out of her mouth.  _

_ “I missed you, Susan,” (Y/N) said earnestly, gently grabbing her hands as she unfolded her arms. _

_ “I’ve missed you too,” Susan said, linking their fingers together. “Your intellect too, I won’t lie. It’s not as though all of them have been sacks of potatoes, but they sometimes come very close.” _

_ “Did you just call me a sack of potatoes?” Edmund demanded.  _

_ “No,” Susan said unconvincingly. “It’s not your fault that (Y/N)’s much smarter compared to you.” _

_ “Oh, come on Susan,” (Y/N) said, giggling a little at Edmund’s offended expression. “Ed’s not all that dumb.” _

_ “Not all that--” Now, Edmund looks  _ very _ affronted. _

_ (Y/N) didn’t notice it, but Peter was looking at her with something akin to deep fondness. She hadn’t been the only one missing him. He had missed her dearly too.  _

_. . . _

_ Narnia was beautiful even with just its snowy landscape, (Y/N) decided, though her heart was thumping in fear and anticipation for Mr. Beaver. And Edmund… She thought about Edmund sadly --  _

_ Mr. Beaver called them, and she peeked her head out, and --  _

_ “Merry Christmas, sir,” Lucy said wondrously.  _

_ “It certainly is, Lucy, since you have arrived,” Father Christmas said kindly, and (Y/N) thought not for the first time, what her purpose was. She wasn’t a Pevensie sibling, so she had no part in the prophecy. Was it a mistake that she entered Narnia? _

_ “I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia,” Susan said cautiously.  _

_ “No, for a long time,” Father Christmas said, adjusting his grip on the reigns. “But the hope that you have brought, Your Majesties, is finally starting to weaken the Witch’s power.” _

_ The thoughts returned with a renewed vigor, plaguing (Y/N)’s thoughts. By this time, Father Christmas had presented Lucy with a beautiful flask.  _

_ “The juice of the fire-flower,” he informed her. “One drop will cure any injury. And though I hope you never have to use it…” He gave her a small, but sharp dagger.  _

_ Lucy thanked him. “But I don’t think I could be brave enough,” she said.  _

_ Father Christmas reassured her. “I’m sure you could,” he said, “but battles are ugly affairs.” _

_ (Y/N) watched as Father Christmas presented Susan a beautiful bow and quiver filled with arrows donning red feathered ends, telling her that if she believed, it would not miss. Susan repeated Father Christmas’ own words back to him, making him laugh as he handed her a beautiful white horn.  _

_ “Blow on this, and wherever you are, help will come.” _

_ “Thanks,” Susan said softly.  _

_ Peter was given a beautiful sword and a silver shield with a large red lion imprinted on the front of it. He unsheathed the sword, reading the inscription on it. “When Aslan bares his teeth, winter meets its death, when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.” _

_ “Thank you, sir,” Peter said, and Father Christmas nodded. _

_ “As for you, (Y/N)...” _

_ (Y/N)’s head shot up, unable to keep her surprise back. Father Christmas let out a jolly laugh at her expression.  _

_ “Yes, my girl, I have something for you as well,” he said. “Come forth.” _

_ (Y/N) hesitated, and Peter put his hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright,” he encouraged softly. With his encouragement, she stepped forward.  _

_ Father Christmas handed her a beautiful sleek rapier, it’s scabbard a smooth leather that had a brilliant silver stag leaping mid-motion, head canted towards an unknown sun.  _

_ “And a necklace,” Father Christmas continued, holding out a necklace with a beautiful charm. A  _ _ white chrysanthemum, winking in the light. It was small, but she could see the details on it perfectly. “Wear it, and you will know the truth.” _

_ “Thank you,” (Y/N) said quietly, taking both the rapier and necklace.  _

_ “These are tools, not toys. Bear them well, and wisely,” Father Christmas instructed, waiting until we all nodded. He jested about the amount of presents he had to give out, and wished us a merry Christmas. “Long live Aslan!” he said, whipping the reigns, and the reindeer tell into a steady trot.  _

_ “Merry Christmas!” Lucy yelled after him, and we echoed her statement. “Told you he was real,” she told Susan after turning back around.  _

_ “Here,” Peter said, holding his hand out toward (Y/N). She blinked for a moment, before realizing and handed him the necklace. She held her hair up as he worked with the clasp, and turned around when he was done.  _

_ “It looks really pretty,” he said, smiling at her. (Y/N) flushed, catching Susan’s eye as Peter turned back to talk to the rest of the group.  _

_ Susan winked, and (Y/N)’s cheeks burned even brighter.  _

_. . . _

_ Aslan had suggested that (Y/N) should go back to see to the battle -- he told her that her skills would be needed.  _

_ “But Aslan!” Susan had said, aghast. “She’s even younger than I am, I’ll go instead--” _

_ “It’s alright,” (Y/N) had said, squaring her shoulders. “He wouldn’t say that without a reason, wouldn’t you, Aslan?” _

_ “And you still doubt why you are here in Narnia?” he questioned back, his deep tawny eyes staring into her own. _

_ (Y/N) had cracked a small smile, and ridden on the top of the griffin Aslan had summoned to the battlefield.  _

_ Now, she was in the battlefield, fighting, her heart pounding wildly. She ducked a huge swipe from a minotaur, and slashed its hair hindquarters. The beast howled as it went down, and she turned only to find a snow leopard leap at her, yowling.  _

_ She let out a small shriek, as she threw herself to the side, scrambling to get up as the leopard landed and got ready to pounce again -- desperate, (Y/N) deftly scooped up and threw her rapier at the leopard, and it let out another yowl, scrabbling at the weapon lodged in its shoulder before it limped on the rocky terrain, dead.  _

_ (Y/N) shakily yanked her rapier from the leopard’s body, a small whimper coming out of her mouth, then -- _

_ A loud shattering sound, and (Y/N) whipped around. Edmund, a few paces away, and his face pale, a sword in his hand and the shattered remains of the Witch’s wand scattered on the ground, the Witch turning with a murderous expression on her face -- _

_ “EDMUND!” (Y/N) screamed, running, and -- _

_ CLANG. (Y/N)’s rapier trembled under the swung blow, and the Witch narrowed her eyes at her. “Ah,” she hissed, her red kohl smudging. “You are the one I heard Aslan has no use for.” _

_ (Y/N)’s eyes widened, and -- _

_ The Witch used her other sword to swiftly plunge her sword into (Y/N) and --  _

_ (Y/N) gasped shakily as the Witch withdrew her sword, spite on her face as (Y/N) trembled, crumpling to the ground, blood sticky on her palms as (Y/N) pressed her hands on the wound, an old lesson from school coming to mind, her breath coming out in quick, short bursts.  _

_ She thought she heard guttural screaming -- was it her name? Was that… was that Peter’s voice? And Edmund’s? She wasn’t very sure, really. But she was tired, and the blinding pain was slowly disappearing, replacing with darkness. It wasn’t very much scary, and the last thing she remembered was a lion’s roar before drifting off into that darkness. _

_. . .  _

_ (Y/N) was alive and well, though she had gotten a strict scolding by Peter and a tearful Edmund hugging her.  _

_ But now, she was watching her dear friends’ coronation. They looked absolutely radiant and handsome, (Y/N) thought as she watched Aslan declare them Kings and Queens of Narnia. She was standing in the place Mr. Tumnus had been before he stepped up to don the new rulers with their crowns.  _

_ “And now,” Aslan said, turning to (Y/N), who once again, couldn’t keep the surprise off her face, “(Y/N) Brooksworthe. Would you please join us here?” _

_ (Y/N) stood, slightly shaking as she stood before Aslan, casting a momentary glance at Peter. He was looking at her encouragingly as always, and his smile soothed her nerves.  _

_ “(Y/N) Brooksworthe,” Aslan said, looking deep into her eyes. “Never doubt why you are in Narnia. You are not a mistake, my dear.”  _

_ She nodded, and Aslan smiled at her.  _

_ “You have a wonderful and courageous heart, my dear,” Aslan said. “And wherever the heart of Narnia is she is there also -- Grand Princess of all that love Narnia, (Y/N) the Benevolent.” _

_ With that, Mr. Tumnus donned a beautiful crystal opal vine on her head. It was smaller and more humble than the crowns of the Pevensies, but still beautiful in its own way, and (Y/N) adored it.  _

_ “Thank you, Aslan,” she whispered.  _

_ She could’ve sworn that later, Aslan winked at her.  _

_. . . _

The coronation seemed both ages ago and fresh as yesterday to (Y/N) as she walked through Cair Paravel, wearing a light, sheer white dress. She had grown, but was still shorter than Susan -- and even Lucy! but only a bit -- and the Pevensies all teased her relentlessly about it. Peter especially. And speaking of Peter… 

(Y/N)’s deep, deep crush on Peter Pevensie only grew as time went on, until she realized that it wasn’t just a crush -- she was in love with him, totally and intimately. She found herself loving every single little thing about him, to the creases on his face when he smiled (especially his cheeks) and how he let out this small little huff every time he lost his temper. She was in love with him. 

But she was just fine being friends with him. 

Edmund was the one that rejected this contentment of her’s fiercely. “You love him, don’t you?” he had always demanded. “Then you can’t just be fine with being friends!”

“But Edmund,” (Y/N) had always replied back, a sad smile on her face. “What can I do?”

And he had always fallen silent, clenching his fists until (Y/N) suggested a chess game or a sparring match, or a stroll through the woods on horseback. 

The conclusion was always the same, and (Y/N) kept telling herself -- it was better to be his friend than to ruin anything that they had. What she and Peter had was special, she kept reminding herself. 

“(Y/N)!” 

With Peter’s call, (Y/N) turned, a faint smile on her face. There he was, wearing a deep red tunic with golden accents, dark brown pants and fitted boots. His ever present, impressive golden crown rested on his head as he made his way over to her. 

“You look beautiful today,” Peter said, smiling at her. (Y/N) flushed -- after all these years, her cheeks still turned pink whenever Peter complimented her. 

“Thank you,” she said. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” 

Peter laughed at that. “Would you mind going for a walk with me?” he asked, charming as ever. “If you aren’t busy, I mean.” 

(Y/N) offered him a loose shrug. “I have nothing better to do,” she said lightly. “So why not?”

They made their way down to the gardens, one of the most private parts of Cair Paravel, as requested. Once there, (Y/N) made a beeline towards the beautiful array of lavenders. She loved their calming, stress-reducing scent, and they were overall beautiful to look at.

Peter cleared his throat, but (Y/N) didn’t think too much of it until -- 

“The… Calormene have offered a means of fast-paced peace,” he said.

(Y/N) straightened, surprised. “But Calormen has always had negative relations with Narnia,” she said. “What changed?”

Peter cleared his throat again, and (Y/N) waited. He was hesitating, she noticed. 

“They have… offered a means of marriage.”

(Y/N) looked at him, alarmed. “Surely not -- is it… is it Susan?”

When Peter shook his head, (Y/N) opted to ignore the sinking, heavy feeling in her stomach. “Who is it?” she asked, eternally grateful that she had successfully kept the tremble out of her voice. 

“Me,” came Peter’s voice quietly.

The pleasant breeze that had been drifting through the garden stilled, and so did (Y/N)’s breath until she struggled to intake a bit of air at the news.  _ Aslan _ , she was a fool for not seeing this. Of course this would happen -- Peter was of eligible age, and he was handsome too, she thought almost bitterly. 

She was surprised at how much it hurt to think of Peter marrying another. The man she loved with all of her heart, wed to another. Happy with another, having… having children with another. She didn’t realize until too late that her vision was blurry, eyes full of tears, breath hitching. She didn’t mean to show it, it just -- it hurt so much, pinpricks on the palms of her hands, the feeling trembling through her whole body until she was numb from it, the anvil sinking deeper and deeper in her stomach. 

“(Y/N)?”

She looked up, to vaguely see Peter’s worried face. “(Y/N), are you --”

“You should tell your siblings,” (Y/N) told him with a slightly choked up voice.

“Well, yes, I should,” he said, and (Y/N) could tell that he was still worried.

“I’m fine,” she said, clearing her throat. “This is urgent news Peter, and I don’t think you should wait.”

“But… but I wanted to --” He cut himself off when (Y/N) wouldn’t meet his eyes, shifting so her back was to him. “Alright,” he relented. “I’ll… I’ll see you later?”

(Y/N) nodded. 

She waited until his footsteps faded, then slowly, slowly crumpled to the smoothly paved garden path, tears spilling from her eyes. She let out a little laugh, her heart twisting horribly as she balled her hands into the light fabric of her dress. 

She sniffed once, fruitlessly wiping at the tears rolling down her cheeks, and let out a shuddering breath.

She cherished her friendship with Peter with all of her heart, she reminded herself. But… 

_But_ , a selfish voice whispered in her mind, _it hurt so terribly_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made a pinterest board for clothes & stuff!  
> https://www.pinterest.com/minervavanguard/narnia-au/
> 
> dress she wears during coronation is the golden one, but imagine deep blue accents. and the crown she gets is "fiorenza rose&opal crystal vine"! and the white dress is the one where the woman is wearing a branch-like crown. enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: lmao bruh i noticed an error right as i pressed post


	2. the sun and moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter's still oblivious, edmund is whipped but wants the best, and poor (y/n) is too good @ lying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE i'm fueLED by narnia energy rn and i hope it doesn't die soon because if it does i have an awful feeling that the story's going to be left unfinished,, root for me y'all

Edmund found (Y/N) sitting by the cliff’s edge, right where Cair Paravel overlooked the sea. He hesitated. 

“I know you’re there,” came (Y/N)’s soft voice. Edmund internally let out a sigh, before approaching and sitting next to her. 

“Aren’t you cold?” he finally asked her after several beats of silence. 

(Y/N) shrugged, thumbing the loose and airy fabric of her dress. “I suppose so,” she said, “but it’s not too bad.”

“You won’t be saying that after you catch a cold,” Edmund chided, but not unkindly. A flutter, and a fluffy blanket was around (Y/N)’s shoulders. When she turned to look at him, Edmund’s breath hitched. 

Her eyes were tinged with red, and slightly puffy, tear stains still on her cheeks. 

Face crumpling for her, he wrapped his arms around her, heart aching. “Peter’s an idiot,” he said fiercely. 

“He is, but he isn’t,” (Y/N) said, a tiny laugh coming from her. “He’s simply doing what needs to be done. We are in a bit of a desperate situation to negotiate a better peace between Narnia and Calormen.” 

“But marriage doesn’t have to be the answer,” Edmund insisted. 

“It might have to be,” (Y/N) said, face still buried in Edmund’s warm shoulder. “They’ve been rather… for a lack of better terms, they’ve been completing the original peace treaties to the bare minimum. Perhaps they want one of their own in Narnia.” 

“Which might mean that they could be planning to take over Narnia,” Edmund said, and (Y/N) laughed -- she could practically feel his scowl. 

“You really think Narnia would fall that easily?” (Y/N) said, prodding Edmund’s chest. “Besides, if they ever tried anything, we could accuse them of treason. More than enough evidence with one of them on the throne and the timing caught right.”

Edmund was quiet, and (Y/N) let out a little sigh as comfortable silence befell the two of them once more. 

“Politics aside,” he said, again being the one to break the silence. “You matter, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) broke from Edmund’s hold, and fixed a glare at him. “Edmund, my own personal feelings are inconsequential when it comes to the good of Narnia, and you know that.”

Edmund looked at her, pain bleeding from his eyes. “(Y/N)...” he said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He shook his head, soft bangs bouncing from under his silver crown of birch leaves. “Benevolent as you may be, you really do need to learn to be kinder to yourself.”

(Y/N) looked at him, puzzled. Edmund caught her gaze and let out a laugh. 

“Nothing, you’ll find out sooner or later,” he said, before reaching out to her hair behind her ear. His fingers strayed at the circlet vine she wore, the rose and opal crystals winking in the late sun. Soon, said sun would begin to set, casting the sky in wonderful colors. 

“Pink roses for gentleness and admiration,” he mused, tracing said flower. “But also for sympathy.” 

“Susan would have a right fit if she found out that I was nabbing her ‘Gentle’ title,” (Y/N) giggled. Edmund offered her a smile, before his eyes flickered back onto her circlet. 

“And opal… loyalty and faithfulness.” 

(Y/N) dipped her head. “My everything does belong in Narnia, after all.” 

_ And  _ my  _ everything _ , Edmund thought tenderly,  _ belongs to you. But it’s alright even if you don’t feel the same. I just hope my idiot brother fixes this horrid mess _ .

A little ways off, there stood a petite figure in the castle where Edmund had been before (Y/N) had called to him, clutching a basket of linens. Their knuckles were white as they observed the scene, then with a defeated air, the figure turned, leaving the King and Grand Princess alone. 

The sun began to set, and the sky erupted into soft colors. 

. . . 

“Are you joking?” Susan demanded, after she had pulled Peter aside. This was right after he told the siblings about the potential marriage -- Edmund had looked at Peter, numb with shock until he had quickly turned and strode off, most likely to find (Y/N). 

Lucy had just stared sadly at Susan dragging Peter, her shoulders had sunk.

“No, I’m not,” Peter said, squaring his shoulders, trying to look bolder and taller -- as if he wasn’t already tall, but Susan had that effect on him. 

“Are you… are you  _ blind _ , Peter?” Susan finally asked, after sputtering for a good five seconds.

“No, I’m not!” Peter cried out, offended. “Do you  _ think _ I want to do this? I want to be able to marry someone I love, but we don’t know what the Calormene will do if I refuse! They’ve already been frugal with the current alliances -- what if they decide to break it off for good at the rejection?”

Susan gaped at Peter before pinching the bridge of her nose. “Aslan help me,” she murmured, brows furrowed. 

“ _ What _ ?” Peter asked, a little harshly, but he couldn’t help it. First, he broke the news to (Y/N), who looked… well, Peter couldn’t put his finger on it. Her eyes had definitely been teary, but she’d turned her back to him before he could place her expression. For some reason, his heart squeezed thinking about (Y/N). She was okay… wasn’t she? Then Edmund had stormed off, and Lucy had looked at him with this weird, incredibly sad expression, and now, Susan had dragged him off to give him a private scolding.

“You are the  _ High King of Narnia _ , Peter,” Susan said, almost impatiently. “Narnia has more land and power than Calormen, or at least, we would if we deploy properly. If they decide to attack, we can offer them a better means of treaties, appease both sides. The answer doesn’t have to be marriage, you dolt!”

“But Susan,” Peter replied exasperatedly, “what if we go to war?”

Susan was quiet. “No,” she replied firmly. “It is too soon to go to war. Calormen remembers the reign of the White Witch, and they will not risk another war.”

The two eldest siblings stared at each other.

“I’ll think about it,” Peter muttered.    
  


Susan let out a sigh. 

. . .

A few weeks later, there came an announcement -- a ball, celebrating the arrival of the royal Calormene. 

(Y/N)’s heart broke. 

. . .

“I’ve been thinking,” Peter said, voice full of hesitation. It was dinnertime, about three days before the Calormene arrived. 

Like rapt eagles, Susan and Edmund both trained their stares at Peter, while Lucy looked worriedly at (Y/N). 

(Y/N) spoon trembled a little before she stilled her hand, and fixed her face into a pleasant and gentle smile. 

“What have you been thinking about, Peter?” she asked, knowing full well what it was. 

“I… I might take up the Calormene’s offer --”

“You’re  _ daft _ .” 

Peter stilled and slowly turned his gaze to Edmund. “I’m sorry?”

“You are utterly and deplorably --”

“That’s fantastic, Peter.”

The remaining three Pevensie siblings jerked their heads to (Y/N), and Lucy continued to stare sadly at her dear friend. 

Peter was the first to recover from the shock, clearing his throat. “Thank you, (Y/N). It’s nice to have at least one person not attack my every move.”

“Of course,” (Y/N) said easily. “Are you… excited to meet your soon-to-be wife?” 

Peter shrugged mulishly. “I suppose, though if the Calormene king demands children, I don’t know what I’d --”

_ Clink _ . 

Peter blinked, and watched (Y/N) fumble with her fork, which she had dropped. Were her hands… shaking? Wait -- was she trembling all over?

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, worry seeping through him.

“I --” 

Peter froze. There it was again, the same warble her voice had taken when he had first told her about the marriage.

Her shoulders were definitely shaking, her navy bodice expanding and deflating as she took quick breaths.

“I’m going to get some fresh air, is that alright?” (Y/N) asked, finally looking up. Peter, still frozen, took in how her smile seemed strained and her bottom lip was slightly quivering. 

“I -- I suppose, so --”

(Y/N) was already out the dining room, and the Pevensie siblings all sat there in shock. (Y/N) was not known to lose her cool or composure as easily as she had then. However, all but one Pevensie sibling knew why she had acted the way she did. 

Edmund stood from his seat, his pumpkin soup forgotten as he glared at Peter. “Wake up, would you?” he nearly snarled, hands tightening into fists. “(Y/N) deserves so much better.”

Peter felt as though his crown would erupt from his head as he too shot up. “And what on  _ Aslan’s name is that supposed to mean _ ?” he demanded, throwing his hands in the air. “You know, I’ve noticed something -- you lot are dancing around me waving some secret message and I have  _ no idea what it is, so will someone please just tell me _ ?”

Silence fell upon the dining room -- Edmund still glaring at Peter, Peter’s chest heaving from the frustrated rant he just had expelled, Susan’s eyes flitting between the two of them, and Lucy --

“I think we could all use a little fresh air,” Lucy suggested, rising from her seat.

“It’s not like there isn’t air inside,” Edmund muttered, mainly to himself -- but Susan caught herself smiling just the littlest bit at the many aged old comment. 

“Fine,” Peter replied curtly, them promptly turned and left the dining room. As soon as the doors slammed shut behind him, Edmund let out a loud groan. 

“The idiot,” he said, smacking his forehead, sinking back down onto his seat. “Made me neglect my soup, too.”

“Well, it’s not as though you’re any better, are you?” Lucy quipped back, crossing her arms. “What are  _ you _ going to do through this whole affair?”

“ _ Me _ ?” Edmund sputtered, popping up like a gopher from his seat again. “What -- what have  _ I _ got to do with this?” 

“Edmund Pevensie, you know exactly what she means,” Susan said, also crossing her arms. “Peter isn’t the only person you should to nip at.”

“Wh --” Edmund stammered under the intense gazes of both his sisters.

“Well,” he finally said, his cheeks spotty with red, “I really ought to find (Y/N).” With that, he quickly left the room, pretending not to hear Lucy when she called out:

“This is exactly what we mean!”

. . . 

(Y/N) was utterly fascinated with the sky. She loved sunsets and sunrises, and seeing the clouds lazily make their way through the days, or seeing fat drops of rain roll down windows as thunder gently rumbled. 

Tonight was no exception. 

Stars in Narnia seemed to glow like Aslan breathed life into them himself, and they twinkled so prettily on the inky dark sky of the night. 

(Y/N) let out a long breath, hands clutching the cool balcony ledge. She was in the astronomy tower, somewhere she went to clear her head. Centaurs often came to this tower, so it was made specially so they would have easier access. Savvian, the centaur that had been on this lush, scenic balcony, had graciously taken one look at (Y/N)’s face, bowed his head slightly, and had smoothly cantered out, leaving (Y/N) the privacy of the balcony and the open night sky. 

“Your Highness?”

(Y/N) turned. 

There stood a short figure -- well actually, she was around (Y/N)’s height, they were perhaps the same. The figure stepped into the light, and (Y/N) saw that she was a servant -- her headpiece still on, hair split into two small braids that barely touched her collarbones, and nervously twisting the worn garb of her skirt as she curtseyed.

“I -- I couldn’t help but notice, Your Highness,” the girl continued hesitantly when (Y/N) made no motion to talk, “and it is none of my business, but --”

She flicked her eyes up shyly to meet (Y/N)’s, and (Y/N) thought that she had the most beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen. 

“Your Highness seemed a bit… down, for a lack of better terms,” the servant girl finished, now fiddling with a leather bracelet on her wrist. 

(Y/N) smiled -- a real one. 

“You’re very kind,” she said, and gently pat the space on the balcony next to her. “Tell me, what is your name?”

“Oh…” the girl hesitated again, before timidly stepping next to (Y/N), but further than where she had pat. “My name is Crescent, Your Highness.” The girl spoke quietly and politely, (Y/N) noticed.

“What has brought you up to this tower tonight, Crescent?” (Y/N) asked. 

“A number of things, Your Highness,” Crescent answered humbly, her eyes cast downward. “I am always here during nights of a… a crescent moon.” Her face was flushed as she spoke. She cleared her throat before continuing. “I also regularly change linens and such in this tower for the centaurs, and…” 

  
Crescent looked very shy once more, eyes flickering towards (Y/N) before quickly looking down again. “I find it very peaceful here at night, and the view is quite wonderful,” she finished quietly.

(Y/N) let out a low hum. “It honestly is,” she agreed. 

The two stood there in a little comfortable silence, watching the stars twinkle in the ebony sky. 

“Your Highness,” came Crescent’s voice timidly once more. “Could I… be so bold to ask a bit of a… personal question?”

(Y/N) looked at her curiously. “Alright,” she relented slowly. “What is it?”

Crescent swallowed, looking as though she had eaten a rather sour lemon. “Is Your Highness by any chance… uncomfortable with the Majesties from Calormen arriving soon?”

(Y/N) froze, eyes widening, and her mouth dropped open a little. “I…”

Crescent turned white as a sheet, clapping her hands over her mouth. She seemed to have snapped out of a daze -- in fact, the entire time it had seemed like some driving force had encouraged her to speak her mind a little more freely than she normally would’ve. 

“ _ I am so sorry, Your Highness _ ,” Crescent whispered, horrified, sinking to her knees. “I have been disrespectful to such a dishonorable degree. I only beg you, please do not --”

“(Y/N)?” came Edmund’s voice, faint but definitely in the tower.

(Y/N)’s gaze went from Crescent, to the direction, then back to Crescent’s rapidly paling face -- as if she hadn’t already blanched earlier. 

“Crescent, there is no need for you to kneel,” (Y/N) said, gathering Crescent’s hands and helping her rise to her feet. “You also don’t need to be so afraid. You can look at me in the eyes, Crescent, I don’t mind.”

The girl froze, then so very timidly, raised her green eyes to meet (Y/N)’s own. 

“There we are,” (Y/N) said, mouth crinkling into a smile. “That’s much better.”

“But, Your Highness,” Crescent stammered, eyes flitting from the expansive room leading into the balcony, and back to (Y/N), “I --”

Edmund appeared, looking quite frazzled, as if he’d been looking for (Y/N) for a while. “(Y/N) --” he broke off in the midst of saying her name and zeroed in on Crescent, looking surprised. 

“Cress?”

Crescent flushed, hot and bright as she quickly took her hands away from (Y/N)’s. “Your Majesty,” she said, still quite flustered as she stepped into a quick curtsy. 

“Cress -- Crescent,” Edmund said, catching himself, still surprised. “You know (Y/N)?”

“I know all the Imperial Majesties and Highnesses in Cair Paravel, Your Majesty,” Crescent said, and (Y/N) could’ve sworn that she was teasing. 

“Right,” Edmund said, embarrassed as he ran a hand through his slightly unkempt dark hair over his crown, causing said crown to tilt a little. He seemed to not notice. “Is it alright if I could talk to (Y/N) for a moment?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Crescent said, dipping her head, then curtseyed. “Would you… prefer complete privacy?” she asked the both of them. 

“Wh --  _ no _ , we are  _ not _ going to be kicking out any centaurs out for the sake of one conversation,” Edmund said, and his facial expression twitched when Crescent made eye contact with him for the briefest second. 

“Good night, then, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” Crescent said, curtseying the two of them before leaving quickly and quietly.

“Cress?” (Y/N) asked, raising an eyebrow at Edmund. 

Edmund flushed. “Just a simple nickname,” he muttered, stepping up to stand next to her.

(Y/N) smiled at him, before reaching up to smooth his hair and crown. “Only a simple nickname?” she asked, after she had unsuccessfully smoothed out a strand of dark hair behind his ear and turning away. 

“Only a simple nickname,” Edmund repeated, his voice soft. 

They stood there for a minute, (Y/N)’s shoulders tense as the navy and white fabric of her dress shifted gently at the cool nighttime breeze, and Edmund watching her in rapt attention. He opened his mouth to speak, then --

“I was fine,” (Y/N) said in a wobbly voice, fingers laced together tightly and resting on the balcony ledge, “I was fine. But  _ children _ \--”

Her mouth was quivering, shoulders shaking. “I suppose,” she whispered, as tears rolled down her cheeks, “that this  _ stupid _ love had a timer. I  _ knew  _ that, and yet…” She sniffed, and tried to wipe the tears away. “And yet I still love him,” she cried, her voice still so unsteady. “Edmund,” she said, shaking her head. “I still love him. Isn’t that sick?”

“It’s not sick at all,” Edmund said fiercely. “ _ You’re _ not sick, and if Peter would just open his damn eyes…” 

“It isn’t Peter’s fault,” (Y/N) said, drying her wet hands on her dress, before Edmund caught them and began to wipe them and her face with a soft handkerchief.

“But it is,” Edmund insisted. “If he weren’t so blind, then things would be fine.”

“He is not blind,” (Y/N) said firmly. “It’s just that he doesn’t see me in that light.”

Edmund gaped at her, his handkerchief pausing on her cheek. “ _ Doesn’t see you in that light _ ?” he asked, appalled. “(Y/N), if that were true, he’d be the stupidest man alive.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks took on a rosy hue. “Edmund,” she said, her voice slow and teasing. “Are you… are you calling me…?”

Edmund blinked, before turning a fierce red under the moonlight. “Well --” he blustered, hands beginning to shake slightly, “ _ honestly _ (Y/N),  _ everyone _ in Narnia thinks you’re…” He swallowed. 

“I’m…?” (Y/N) teased, egging him on. 

“... Beautiful,” Edmund muttered, and the two of them became very still. 

The only sounds were their breathing, and Edmund’s dark eyes looking right into (Y/N)’s. 

“Thank you, Edmund,” (Y/N) said tenderly. “How is it that you always know what to say?”

Edmund looked quite sad for a second, (Y/N) thought, but when she blinked, the expression had morphed into one like teasing. “Years and years of practice, Brooksworthe,” he said, and raised the crook of his arm.

“The night is late, Grand Princess,” he said in a haughty voice. “Shall I escort you back to your room?”

(Y/N) giggled, looping her arm through his. “Why, thank you, King Edmund,” she said in an equally snooty voice, turning her head so her nose was in the air. “I’ll remember this in great detail in order to gossip about it to my friends back at home,” she continued, batting her eyelashes excessively. 

The two laughed as they headed down and out of the astronomy tower, arm in arm, moon and stars winking down at them. 

. . . 

A petite figure stood in the shadows of an alcove, fingers lightly laced and head bowed. The figure had seen the love and sweet affection the King had shown in his gaze as the Grand Princess had fixed his crown and mussed hair. The figure was quite happy for the King, because he had someone he loved. He deserved it, the figure thought. 

And so, the petite figure stepped from the alcove, let out a long, soft breath, and made their way back into the castle. 

The crescent moon cast a beautiful, silver glow upon Cair Paravel and all of Narnia. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i make my dialogues too... like, i use dashes a lot more than i expected. hopefully it doesn't annoy you guys too much. 
> 
> hopefully you enjoyed the chapter, and tell me how you feel about crescent and the whole situation and such! kudos & comments are always appreciated, and ofc, if you don't want to, you don't have to! :D have a nice day/night
> 
> pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/minervavanguard/narnia-au/
> 
> the dress (y/n) wears this chapter is the one i labeled "chapter two dress." if you still can't find it, it's also called "renaissance medieval irish fitted over dress" -- the one that's off the shoulder and has a navy bodice+skirt!! i suck at outfits so i have to create a pinterest board lmao. in the beginning though, she's still wearing the light, airy dress from chapter 1.


End file.
